Locked In
by Miss Maggie
Summary: Tired of all the drama surrounding "stuttergate", well meaning friends lock Artie and Tina into a closet in an attempt to get them to make amends.


I pull at the door, but it's a fruitless effort. It's locked pretty firmly from the outside, where I am most definitely not at. I tug on the door one more time, and then, scowling at it, I slink into the corner, covering myself as best as I can with a coat. I bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, still pouting miserably.

"You don't have to act like it's the worst thing in the world, you know." A voice cracks through the silence, and it reminds me that I'm not alone in this closet.

"It might be, this is the first thing that you've said to me in almost three weeks," I mumble it into my knees, but it's loud enough for him to hear. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Artie wince, and it makes me feel a little better. Then I immediately bury my face into my knees, because I feel like a total jerk for feeling happy because I said something mean to my best friend.

Is he still my best friend anymore? I don't know what to think these days. All I know is that it's pretty lonely in my life right now. The urge to cry overcomes me, and I resist the urge to let the tears fall; I feel stupid enough right now, and tears won't make it better.

"You've been avoiding me." Artie's voice cuts through my doom and gloom thoughts, and I pick my head up from my knees. His tone seems a little gentler, not sarcastic or biting like it had been before.

"You've been avoiding me too," I say, pushing my hair out of my eyes so that I can actually look Artie in the face. "It was almost too easy to avoid you, you know."

"Except for the fact that we have a bunch of classes together, and Glee."

"That's why I said it was too easy," I reply. I move my legs away from my chest a little, which is hard to do in the confined space, and it suddenly dawns on me that Artie's been shoved into this closet with me… without his wheelchair. "Hey, are you okay? You don't have your chair in here."

"Puck was kind enough to lift me from the chair before Mercedes and Kurt tossed you in the closet after me." His tone indicates that the gesture was anything but kind, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from smiling or laughing. Artie doesn't seem to be in the mood for either, and I know he's still mad at me.

"I'm sorry," I say again, unsure of what else to do when the silence turns awkward.

Artie opens his mouth, like he's about to say something, so I quickly rush forward, letting out all the words I know I need to say. "I know that faking a disability is really, really, terrible and it's rude and heartless and you have every right to be angry at me. I shouldn't have lied to you about it for so long. I shouldn't have lied to you at all."

"I've already forgiven you," Artie tries to smile at me, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"No you haven't," I say, trying to keep my own temper in check. "I did something really, stupid. I was eleven and scared. Really scared… I'm not good with people. I'm weird and yeah, it's because I choose to be." I gesture to the chains decorating my ripped jeans. "But I like being weird, I like looking like this. I get to express myself, I get to be labeled as odd, and it works like a shield. People are scared to approach me because I look tough and because I don't … didn't, whatever, talk right and I like it that way. Or at least, I thought I did."

I want to pause for a moment because my impromptu little speech is making me breathless, still, I keep talking before Artie can respond and I lose all my courage completely. "But then I met you, and you kept talking to me, even when I tried to blow you off. And then later, the others in Glee kept saying hi to me. I still don't like people very much, and I still hate being social, and I still get overwhelmed in large crowds… but… I hated the fact most of all that I was lying to everyone. I hated that I was lying to you, Artie. I'm not perfect, but I'm definitely not normal… and I miss being your friend. A lot."

I really have to stop now, because I'm crying and breathless and biting my lip, and I can't believe that I actually said all of that out loud and …._wait, is he hugging me_?

Unsure of what else to do, because my brain isn't quite comprehending this, I wrap my arms around Artie and hug him back and we're quiet for a few moments. I'm still crying softly into his shoulder, but it's not as bad as it's been during the (countless) times I've cried over the past few weeks. Eventually the tears fade away, and I reluctantly pull away to wipe at my eyes with my gloves.

"I'm sorry too," says Artie after a moment. "I should've listened."

"Maybe, but what's happened, it's happened," I say, trying to keep my tone casual. "You know, I thought you were only my friend because I had a disability, too."

"It gave us something in common," mumbles Artie, and he lowers his head, looking embarrassed.

"And we don't have a million other things in common?" I reach out to lightly pat Artie's hand in what I hope is a comforting manner. "Remember the first actual conversation we had?"

"Yeah, I was wondering why I had to sit next to the weirdo, but then you at least had the good taste to be listening to The Beatles on your ipod."

"And you still wanted to be my friend when Barbie Girl came on next," I say, getting lost in the memory. "We've had a lot of good times over the years, Artie."

"So," Artie asks, a bit worried. "What do we do next?"

"We're stuck in the closet for the moment," I point out. "I wonder when our well-meaning friends are ever going to let us out?"

"Mercedes is probably listening at the door with a glass to her ear," says Artie, and this time I do smile, but I'm still resisting the urge to laugh.

"Want to come over this weekend?" I ask, hopeful. "I finally got Ghostbusters on DVD."

"That's the weakest excuse you've ever come up with, Tee."

I roll my eyes and automatically reach out to hit him lightly on the shoulder. "I dunno, your def poetry jam excuse was pretty lame."

"But it wasn't an excuse."

"And neither is mine! I really did get it on DVD." I sit up straight and put on my best Artie impersonation. "So, Tina, do you wanna come over this weekend? I can perform some of my def poetry jams?"

"I was in the sixth grade, we'd just met." Artie's looking a little embarrassed. "And seriously, your voice is way too high to imitate mine, Tee."

"Okay, okay," I wave my hands in surrender. "Still, come over this weekend. We can hang out or something. I promise I won't play any cheesy pop."

"You always promise that," grumbles Artie, but he's smiling, and for the first time in three weeks, it's an actual, genuine smile. Hope blossoms in my chest.

"That's because your opinion of cheesy pop is different from mine."

"Mine's better," Artie says automatically. "But sure, I'll come over, Tee."

I hold out my hand, and he takes mine to shake it. I know it probably won't be perfect, but it still feels like a page has been turned. It's better, and I really do think he's finally forgiven me this time.

We're shaking hands when the door opens, and Artie and I both glare furiously at the rest of the Glee club, even as Finn and Mike are pulling Artie out of the closet and easing him back into his wheelchair.

"That was really mean, you could've hurt Artie, taking him out of his chair like that," I say, annoyed as I stalk out of the closet behind Artie. "I know your intentions were good, but still!" I sigh and take my place behind Artie's chair, pushing him out of the room without even really thinking about it. It's a gesture that's become so automatic to me.

"Tee?" Artie's voice breaks through my temper and I pause, realizing we're nearly halfway down the hall already.

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

I wonder why Artie's thanking me, but the little voice inside my head tells me to shut up. "You're welcome," I say, instead.

"Want to come over now?" Artie asks. I can't see his face, but I'd be willing to bet he's biting his lip, like he always does when he's nervous.

I smile. "Sure. Want to beat me at Mario Kart again?"

Artie laughs. "Maybe I'll let you win a game or two," he says, teasingly.

I can't help but laugh too, and together we stroll out of the school and down the familiar path toward his house. No one really knows what the future will bring for Artie and me, but at the moment, I'm so glad to have my best friend back, really back, not just there, that I really couldn't care less.

---

**Author's Note: **I'm not _entirely_ thrilled with this one-shot, but I've been editing it for almost a week now and I just want to post it already... I'm my own worst critic, I swear. Anyway, thanks for reading, your reviews make me happy. As for my other fic in progress, worry not: I've almost finished editing the next chapter of The Line Between, and I'm almost done writing the chapter after that one.

Happy New Year! ^-^


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